


Like Stones Along the Waterfront

by jotunblood



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Background Relationships, Ben Solo Lives, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Fondling, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kissing, POV Ben Solo, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, The Force, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunblood/pseuds/jotunblood
Summary: Rey and Ben skip across the galaxy.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	Like Stones Along the Waterfront

**Author's Note:**

> TROS SPOILER DESCRIPTION:
> 
> Faced with the choice of joining Palpatine or dying, Rey and Ben choose neither. Banding together, they go rogue and on the run, racing the odds as they dodge a galaxy-wide manhunt [Diverges from canon prior to the final fight, which the author wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.]

They could do this forever, Ben thought. Running was easy. He was used to it, and so was Rey by now. War had given her that, but he doubted she was grateful. It wasn’t a very charitable gift. And it had taken so much more, from her and him and everyone. The whole galaxy felt like it had gone slick with loss. But this at least-- being together-- was a desperately needed gain.

He still couldn't believe _gain_ was an option left open to him. 

That door felt like it had closed years ago. Ben hadn’t gained much since leaving for Luke’s temple. Life since then had been nothing but a desperate bid to hold his ground. It hadn’t worked, of course, but he’d tried. He dug his boots into the mud in the hope of standing firm, willing himself to keep focused and centered, but his influencer had been insidious and strong. In the end, it wasn’t much of a competition.

Ben shook the thought. It wasn’t safe to think of Palpatine, even if he never spoke his name again. It still had power. He could feel it, thin as smoke and following behind him, just waiting for him to slip.

“Where to this time?” Rey asked.

Her voice scattered the thought. Like everything about the woman, it was a lifeline. Ben had found that he could count on it to drag him out of most anything. It was good that she was here. He wouldn't have gotten far without her.

“Wherever you want,” he said, dropping into the copilot’s seat. 

He wasn’t good at flying the vessels they usually stole. He was most comfortable in a TIE, and did alright with a freighter. But the decommissioned Starhoppers they’d been able to jump-start-- well, the mechanics escaped him. Rey learned them quickly, probably due to her experience with junking. She knew scrap, and how to milk it for what good was left.

“Well, let's see.” Rey settled into her own seat. She adjusted the height, testing the reach of her arms from it. Deciding she didn’t like it, she dropped again and swiveled to face him. “Where in the Outer Rim haven’t we gone yet?”

Her mouth turned up, showing teeth. The smile was genuine, as wide and beaming as if this were a vacation. As if they were newlyweds on an adventure. But they weren’t either of those things. Technically, they were fugitives. They’d barely escaped Palpatine with their lives, and he was still on the hunt for them. It was best to keep moving until they heard otherwise, which was what they'd been doing for the last six months. 

Together on whatever rust bucket they could steal, they skipped between planets and moons. While on-world they pilfered rations, scammed for credits, and lived like smugglers. It was exciting. It reminded Ben of being a boy. Rey didn’t mind it either. Her own childhood had been chaotic, though Ben still didn’t know many details. Sometimes she opened up when the hovel they slept in reminded her of somewhere. Mostly, though, she was content to live in the moment.

He could relate. It was painful to look back. Neither of them had many pleasant memories to fall back on. The present was nicer and looking better all the time, even if the future was uncertain.

“Plenty of places,” he muttered, returning to the conversation. “But we should probably skip the rim. We’ve been here too long.”

It was just as dangerous to run the same circuit as it was to make a home. Either could get them killed.

Leaning forward in his seat, Ben tapped the console’s ancient interface. It went live, blinking green as the menu loaded. Once in place, he scrolled through it, searching for a map. When he found it, he projected it above the screen. It was grainy and unfocused, but good enough. The planets were visible and so were their moons. The space between worlds wasn’t to scale; they hovered in a perfect circle. It looked like a crown. 

“This is a map of the Mid Rim.”

She scoffed. “A bad one.”

“Granted, but the coordinates are good.” He double tapped the screen, blowing up the images. “Tell me which one you like.”

“But I picked last time.”

The objection was performative. Her brow was already scrunched as she examined the planets hovering above the console. Her back hunched and she reached out, manipulating the projection with slim, handsome fingers. Calloused fingers, whose pads caught on his skin and hair.

He swallowed hard. They needed to focus.

“I can help narrow it if you want. What sort of landscape are you thinking?”

“Anything but ice.” Her eyes cast up, tracking the barren stretch of tundra through the ship’s windshield. “I'd like to be able to feel my toes again.”

That was fair. The Outer Rim had hundreds of snowy outcrops. Some were named worlds, but just as many were wastelands. This one in particular was unknown and uninhabited, which was why they'd picked it. If she wanted a change, though, he could arrange it.

"What about Aleen?"

She shrugged. "Never heard of it."

He dipped his fingers into the map to bring Aleen forward. As it came into view he enlarged it, focusing on the surface. The colors didn't quite translate, but some features did. They could see patches of forest, kilometers of sunbleached mesa, and every so often, what looked to be deep wounds in the ground.

"It's dual-atmosphere," he explained. "Breathable surface, and an underworld that we'd need to rig rebreathers to explore. There are several forests, shallow seas with sizable islands, and deserts. Provided our ship can last, we could hide there while.”

She nodded thoughtfully. "What about company?"

"Wouldn't be much. It's mostly villages, and there aren't any major cities."

There wasn't enough money for them, as the world had no major exports. Though it was situated along a known trade route, the planet was largely left unexploited, which he was sure the natives appreciated.

Rey considered a while longer, eyes narrow on the planet. Her brow was furrowed, jaw tight with concentration. He wanted to stroke it, to sooth the tension there that made his own teeth ache.

"Do we even have the parts for rebreathers?"

"We could find them, but like I said, the surface is fine. We wouldn't _have_ to go down."

He'd want to, though. Han had once, and filled his childhood with stories of it.

Rey trailed her hand along the slowly spinning projection. It tilted, but that wasn't her goal. Brushing his knuckles was. Her own met his seconds later, and her chapped skin him shudder. He wanted to weave fingers, draw her closer, but thought again: _focus_. They could fondle en route.

"Is it warm?" she asked.

He only dodged the question slightly.

"It has a temperate climate, but I don't know if it's summer."

She withdrew her hand. 

"Well, it can't be this cold. We can try it, but we should go somewhere more developed after." Rey strapped into her crash webbing before powering up the Starhopper. “This ship was garbage when we stole it, and getting worse."

**********************************************************

They spent a month on Aleen, which thankfully _was_ in summer. Another ice storm would’ve ripped their ship apart. Here the climate was softer, and the forests thickly canopied. They made cozy hiding places that Ben and Rey grew to love. The rocky outcrops and deserts too, though they saved visiting those for after sunset most days. Waiting until the sand was cool, they used the time to explore, hunt, and gather. Their time there was peaceful, and though tye spent most of their time alone, they visited a nearby village for supplies once a week.

Making sure to cover their faces, they were able to pass for standard travelers. They gave out few details, and did their best not to draw attention. They passed through swiftly, bartering for clothes, ship parts, and nonperishables, but were friendly if a conversation couldn’t be avoided. And sometimes it was better that it couldn’t be; Ben’s visible strength landed him a few job offers, which allowed him and Rey to refill their purse and splurge on a handful of valuables.

The jobs were also what landed them a pair of rebreathers, prebuilt and perfectly functional. He picked them out of a prize lineup after a day of farmwork, and took them back to the woman, grinning like a boy.

“Impressive,” she said, not looking away from the root vegetable cradled in her hand.

Her tone was more patronizing than not, but Ben let it go. She was busy, halfway through peeling, and looked like she’d just gotten the cookfire going. The flames were still tall, but soon would be hot and low. When they were, the roots and rodent meat they had left could be boiled off. It wouldn’t be good soup, but it’d be edible.

“It is,” he agreed, allowing himself to gloat.

She looked up at that, her brow cocking. “Taking money would’ve been smarter. Didn’t you hear Kulima? The Underworld is dangerous.”

Kulima was the Aleena woman they bought vegetables from. Ben remembered her looking anxious that morning, but couldn’t recall having heard her speak.

“You shouldn’t listen to gossip.”

Rey smirked. “It wasn’t gossip.”

It took several seconds for the implication to settle.

“You shouldn’t snoop, either. Kulima’s mind is her own.”

“And still is.” Last root peeled, Rey stuck her knife into a stump before reaching for their cookpot. She placed it over the flames to bring it up to boil. “I was just making sure she hadn’t started to suspect us.”

“And while you were there, you decided to browse.”

Rey frowned. She didn’t like her use of the Force being questioned, especially not when it came to abilities so second nature. She was intuitive and empathetic; slipping into a mind was like slipping into a coat for her. It took more effort not to do it, and probably always would. Her training had been-- well. She hadn’t had any real training, and now she never would. The Masters were gone, and so were their ways. What she and every Force Sensitive learned now was their own responsibility.

“I’m not being critical,” he said, holding up a hand for peace. She glared, but let him take the seat beside her. “It’s hard to filter others out, but you should still try. Would practice help?” She nodded begrudgingly. “We can restart that when we’re off-world. In the meantime, what was she thinking?”

Rey’s jaw slacked, and for a moment Ben thought she’d smack his arm. But her mouth clicked shut, and she only shook her head.

“She was thinking,” the woman began, letting her annoyance seep into her tone, “about the Kindalo that live down there. About their long, branchy fingers and awful red eyes. I think she had a run-in with them once. She kept-- I don’t know. It was hard to follow. But she kept thinking of their faces. Last night set her off.”

Noticing the water had started to bubble, she dropped the vegetables in one at a time. All the while she chewed her lip, eyes glassy and distant. Ben watched her mouth work as she tried to retrace the Aleena’s thought patterns.

“You said something set her off,” he prompted. “What?”

“That mild earthquake just after midnight. You remember.”

He did. It was jarring, and personally, he couldn’t blame Kulima for being afraid.

“She must think they control the earthquakes,” Ben mused. “Which isn’t true, so we don’t have anything to worry about.” He paused to nudge her ribs with his elbow. “Unless this was your plan for weaseling out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a brat. I was just warning you. But if you don’t care about dying, then neither do I.”

Despite the harsh words, her frown flattened out and she scooted closer to him on the long. Covering the cookpot, they listened to it boil off in comfortable silence with their thighs pressed together.

They didn't visit the Underworld until their last day on Aleen, nearly a week after Ben secured the rebreathers. Despite assuring her it was safe, he didn't want to be careless. So soon after an earthquake, collapses in the tunnel system were likely.

That’s all it was, he’d learned. Ben spent the week leading up to their decent trying to clarify his mental image. Weaving together Han’s stories and a few bits of local gossip, he was able to hobble together a passable story. The Underworld was apparently carved out by the roots of ancient Arbozoic trees. After each tree’s death, the roots rotted, leaving caverns in which luminous plants, crystalline seeds, and Kindalo dwelt. Whether or not the Kindalo were offspring of the trees was unclear. Their appearance lent credence to the theory, but there was no way of really knowing. 

“The only real danger,” Ben had said as they strapped into their rebreathers, a few feet from a cavern entrance, “is running into a pack of them, but I don’t think we will.”

“If we do, though?”

He answered by unholstering his blaster and fingering the trigger, grinning before he realized the rebreather would hide it. The expression must’ve crinkled his eyes, though, because Rey laughed. 

“Easy, Solo. You don’t have to blast your way through everything.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d called him Solo, or the first time she’d looked at him how people used to look at Han. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt her energy bloom greener as she compared them; never out loud, but with a thought she didn’t hide. Still, it pierced his heart-- shock, tenderness, and embarrassment all knotting in his chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to _enjoying_ being compared to Han, and hoped wherever the old man’s spirit was, it found that hilarious.

They descended soon after that, and were silent most of the way. It was difficult terrain and they needed to stay sharp. The tunnel was littered with rocks and smaller, living roots that broke through the ground. And the deeper they went, the more natural light they lost. Soon, all that was left was bioluminescence. It haloed the stalks and leaves of eerie plants, making them look irradiated. It was an ugly, strange place, but Ben couldn’t help wanting to travel deeper. There was power there, and its humming strength rattled his teeth. The Force was palpable in the Underworld, and by the glances he kept casting aside to Rey, he could that the woman felt it too.

“Is it some nearby Kindalo?” she asked, voice hushed. The static from her rebreather’s vocoder cut the still air. There weren’t enough roots reaching down through the ceiling to gum the echo. “Or is it the plants?”

“Is what?”

She gestured at nothing, her arm sweeping ahead. 

“That _feeling_ , like something alive is waiting around the bend.”

Ben considered his answer. Technically, everything was alive. The Kindalo, yes, but also the rocks and broken seeds. The Force passed through everything, giving weight and alignment. It was only sentient beings that struggled with it. What she felt wasn’t life in the standard sense, but she wasn’t wrong. The entire Underworld was alive and responding to the magnetic tug of their power. It’d caught their scent, and it was watching.

“It’s just the cave,” he assured. “We don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” she said, and Ben knew she wasn’t fibbing. 

Rey was rarely worried. More often, she was curious, and the Underworld had sparked her interest. He was glad they’d come. They both needed to feel and see it, albeit for different reasons. It was a necessary distraction.

“I’m impressed,” he muttered, coming to stop by an enormous plant. It’s stalk was as thick as his forearm. It’s face reached for the roof, and the color oozing from it was reddish, not green like the others they’d passed. “Han’s stories were usually fluff, but so far, the one he told of this place seems accurate.”

“Han was here? When?”

“When I was a baby. He and Leia needed money, and some people pay in beskar for what grows here.” 

He reached up for the upturned face of the plant. Even on his toes, he couldn’t get more than his fingertips on it. Determined, though, he felt until he found a loose seed and popped it before falling back onto his heels. Palm upturned, he held the seed out to Rey for inspection, and she gasped to see the ruby glow against his skin.

“Can they grow on the surface?”

Ben shook his head. 

“The seeds can be sealed, though, and made into jewelry. It’s dangerous business-- the Kindalo don’t take kindly to looters-- but lucrative if you make it out alive.”

Rey snorted, no doubt imagining a younger, more agile Han Solo stumbling through the labyrinth of tunnels with his blaster drawn. 

“I’m guessing he made it out alright.”

“Without a scratch, if you could believe him. He came home with as many outrageous stories as he did credits.”

He cupped his palm and rolled the seed, watching it run the crease of his lifeline. It’d been injured when he gathered it, and was leaking juice. Dull red pigment trailed behind it. It reminded him suddenly of his saber, the smell of Han’s cauterized flesh and ozone.

He dropped it, wiping his hand on his trousers.

Sensing the shift in his mood, Rey sidled closer. Her fingers wove between his own, feeling small and delicate. She wrapped them over his knuckles and pressed their palms tight, and his throat cinched. They never had much time to simply touch. 

While on the run, there was always something to work on. Their ships were garbage, their rations critical, and no matter where they went, there never seemed to be enough time to get comfortable. Ben had expected that, and warned Rey about how she’d be living if she chose to follow. She’d accepted it and hadn’t complained, even though he knew she sometimes wanted to. It was difficult to be grateful for even each other when a ship’s engine fell out.

But there’d been a handful of times-- usually during flight-- for the two to explore each other’s bodies. It was frantic fondling, mostly, anxious kisses, hair pulling, and neck sucking. But it was perfect, and Ben felt his cock stir just to think of it.

He cleared his throat and shifted. He didn’t let go of her hand though. He lifted it up and brushed her knuckles across his cheek. He wanted to kiss each one and tease the skin between with his tongue, but the rebreather wouldn’t allow it. Maybe later.

“We should go back soon,” he said. “It’s been a few hours, and we don’t know how much longer the Kindalo will stay away.”

Rey nodded, but didn’t fall back. “One more bend. Please?”

Helpless to say no, Ben led them deeper.

********************************************************

They went to Wasskah, Ithor, and NaJedha before leaving the Mid Rim. After that, they spent two weeks in the Outer Rim again. They hid out on Galidraan, docking their new ship in a natural overhang on one of the planets many mountains. 

It was their shortest stay on any world yet. Really, they’d only gone there to think; to weigh the risks and benefits of visiting the Core, where they’d be able to sleep under a roof for a while. Rey was all for it-- she wanted to see streets, drink caf, and sleep on a bed big enough for them both. More pragmatically, she also wanted to steal a newer ship and better tech than they’d ever be able to get out here.

Ben was reluctant. It wasn’t that he hated the idea, or that he didn’t want a room with a real shower and mattress. What worried him was the population of the denser, central worlds. There were millions of people crammed into some, which raised the risk of being recognized considerably. Being caught and chased through hoards of civilians by Palpatine’s agents wasn’t a gamble he was sure they should take.

But, Rey was persistent. More than that: she was gloomy. Being back in the bitter cold upset her. Their ship was better this time and stayed warm long, but the accumulating snow set her on edge. She paced around the ship or cave when they weren’t busy, bundled up and wound tight. She wanted to leave, but wouldn’t pick any of the Mid Rim worlds Ben suggested. Whenever he named on, she countered with a Core World instead.

In the end, he couldn’t resist. Rey was stubborn, and truth be told: Ben was just as sick of the snow as she was. He didn’t want to see any more for at least half a year, and the idea of another forest turned his stomach. The isolation had kept them safe, but it was starting to wear thin. The sentients they occasionally saw were alien, and while they were kind, Ben couldn’t help but miss the shapes of a human face.

He agreed one night to Brentaal, which Rey had named off-hand when he tried for the final time to sell her on Crul. She looked taken aback, but didn’t question him over it. She probably worried he’d change his mind if she pressed.

_So Brentaal next?_ she confirmed, tone firm to brook no walk-back.

And Ben had nodded, but said they still needed to wait. They were riding out a storm and locked in a white out. It wouldn’t be safe to fly again until it cleared.

Rey agreed, and they passed the following days in a peace that’d been absent since they landed on Galidraan. The woman hadn’t been happy about coming, and the promise of leaving brightened her mood.

“You won’t regret it,” she promised one night while they watched the storm.

They were both in Ben’s co-pilot seat: Rey balanced on his lap, sharing her mylar blanket as they stared out the windshield. The visibility was almost negative, and the world outside their cave a uniform, rippling white. Though the alcove kept their ship from being buffeted, the wind still screamed. It tore through the cave, wailing like a dying animal. 

It was hideous and sad, but neither of them could look away. There wasn’t much else to do. It was too cold to strip down and tease or fuck on their cot. Even with the lingering heat of the engine, they would freeze. Ben wanted it desperately, though, and couldn’t keep his hands from roaming over Rey’s tightly muscled body while they talked. Safe under the blanket, he thumbed circles into her hips, enjoying her mewls as she pressed into the contact. Only slightly, of course. She was trying to keep the high ground, though she’d already lost. Sitting like she was-- legs spread over his thighs and back to his chest-- left her open and incapable of reciprocating. She could try rocking her hips back, but the angle was bad for it. 

“You think?” he purred, nose trailing up her neck until it came to the hollow of her jaw. He nuzzled the tender spot and she sucked in sharp before breathing out, shuddering. “It’s dangerous, and I’m still not happy. It’ll take some convincing.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He was looking forward to being back in a city. He wouldn’t tell Rey that, though. He wanted to get her mind working. He wanted her to bart, to make his dick hard. Never mind that they couldn’t fuck here.

“That so?” Her even tone was badly affected. Ben could feel her squirm against his thighs. “But you’re a brave boy, aren’t you? And I can make it worth it.”

“I’m listening.”

After pressing her hips a final time, Ben allowed his hands to wander. One rubbed up her belly, massaging taut muscle and tickling ribs, until it came to rest beneath her chest. His fingers trailed the outline of the lower swell, then crept up to cradle the weight of a breast. It was small, fit his palm, and he squeezed it roughly, enjoying the little whimper it milked from her. Emboldened by the sound, he used his thumb to circle her nipple, rubbing to tease it to a peak through her tunic. His other hand, just as greedy, settled between her thighs, rubbing open-palmed over the heat of her cunt.

“Rey.” He breathed the name, sounding less sure than he’d have liked. It caught her attention still, and when she hummed. “I said I’m listening.”

She bit her lip and corrected the angle her hips, trying to force his fingers to brush her clit. He managed to avoid it and rubbed the seam of her cunt instead. Rey grunted, and he pressed into the tender folds to appease her. Even through the fabric, he could feel her blooming wetness. His fingers curled, wanting to slip under her pants and into the molten, inviting heat. He wanted to feel the tight ring of her entrance quiver and split around his knuckles. Damn Galidraan. Damn the freeze.

Rey cleared her throat, stumbling back to their game.

“Ah,” she tried, voice thin with need. “Well, for starts, I’d let you touch me.”

“I’m touching you now.”

“Not the same. Not inside.” She shifted again, hips knocking against his wrist. “You want to be inside me, don’t you, Ben?”

He vision tunneled, and he nipped the column of her throat. 

“ _Yes_.” 

The word was a pitiful and hungry, and he flushed, cock swelling against the ties of his pants. 

“Your fingers,” she said, voice straining under palpable embarrassment. “Your, your tongue, anything you want. And not just in here.” Her hand came to cover his, pressing it against her cunt. “My mouth, too. Has anyone ever sucked you?”

She knew the answer. Rey had dug into his memories more than once, rifling for details on what made him ache. He hadn’t stopped her. Barring humiliation, there was no reason to.

“No,” he answered honestly, and he heard her huff proudly.

“I could. Could make you feel good.” She stroked the back of his hand, nails catching on his knuckles. “Make you spill on my teeth. Would you like that?”

_Stars_ , but he would. He’d spill anywhere she let him; spill in his own fist and lick it clean, if she asked. 

“Yes,” he said again, more hopeful this time, and she cooed.

“Then you can,” she promised. “After you get me to Brentaal.”

The storm broke three days later and they wasted no time flying out. Galidraan had famously volatile winters, and they couldn’t afford another delay. Their supplies were running low, and it was kriffing cold.

It would take them several weeks to reach the Core. Use of a Hyperlane would speed the process, but they had to be strategic. At best, they had enough emergency fuel reserved for a single jump. He’d rather spend it when it'd spit them out in Brentaal’s orbit, and suffer the tedium of deep space in the meantime.

For the most part, their flight was uneventful. There were no blockades to run, or even a militant cell waiting to intercept travelers. The trip from the Outer Rim was quiet, broken by nothing by stars and planets, which Rey and Ben entertained themselves by trying to name. It was quiet; stiflingly so, and it strained their moods. By the end of the first week they were both on edge, and for Ben, the anxiety manifested in strange, dark dreams.

He dreamt of fire: grass and books burning as he watched, helpless as the crumbling temple around him to put it out. He dreamt of cold ships, a thin mouth capped by frosty eyes and red hair, and a feeling he couldn’t name but that weighed down his gut. _That_ feeling, so familiar, which followed him through every shadowy room he tripped through, desperate to wake. The one that had followed him since boyhood, when he’d been too stupid to be afraid. The feeling of being seen and known from the inside. 

It was that that haunted him most, because it’s source was still out there: combing the stars with hideous fingers for them both. It was strongest in his dreams-- had always been-- and now was no different. Though they came less often now, their severity hadn’t lessened. 

One night in the second week, he dreamed that he was a child again. From somewhere outside himself, he watched a younger Ben sleep. This Ben was ten years old and shaking through a sweat, blankets tied around his legs and night clothes rumpled. His face was pinched and miserable, and wisps of hair clung to his forehead. He tossed, disturbing the blankets-- no. The blankets disturbed themselves. A mass was moving through them from his feet, to his knees, up his thighs, cutting a path to his hips. When it reached the hem of the blanket, Ben’s stomach lurched. Great white hands with spidery fingers slipped out, working up the boy’s belly. They were ugly, scarred hands attached to wrists that never seemed to end. They traveled up, reaching for the sleeping boy’s throat. The nails were claws and if they latched, Ben knew they’d cut. They’d choke the boy, bruise and frighten him. He had to stop it, he _had_ to, but he couldn’t move.

Thankfully, Rey woke him before he could see how the scene played out. Her own hand on his chest, she shook him out of sleep. He tensed at first and snatched her wrist, wide eyed and heart beating furiously. He gripped it tight and he heard her hiss, but she didn’t pull away. 

“Easy,” she soothed, her free hand petting the damp crown of his head. “It’s alright. It was just a dream.”

His hold slacked but he shook his head. She was wrong. It wasn’t just a dream. It never had been. It was a threat, and the message had been received.

“I can’t believe you told her we’re married.”

Rey’s voice was furtive, but Ben didn’t want to risk being overheard. He linked their arms and tugged her further away from the innkeeper’s desk before responding.

“She asked, and saying no would’ve raised more questions.” He flashed their room card. “Don’t you want a quiet stay?” Rey nodded. “So pretend. A couple weeks won’t kill you, _Mrs Hex_.”

They’d made planetfall that morning and brought their ship down at Cormond, in a civilian yard an hour out from the plaza. Ben paid upfront for a month of docking under the name Corbyn Hex. The toll-taker was ecstatic, and assured the the Starhopper would be safe. Not that it mattered. He and Rey weren’t planning on going back for it. There were better ships in nicer shipyards to steal. But he still thanked and tipped the worker for her trouble. 

“I know it won’t,” the woman said, “and I’m not upset. I just wasn’t expecting the question, is all.”

That was fair. No one had asked them many so far. Most of the worlds they’d been hiding out on were secluded. In hindsight, it would’ve been smart to rehearse one. But, no matter. They had time to hammer out the details.

“We’ll work on our story,” he promised. “I don’t want to surprise you again.” He hugged her arm against his side and smiled conspiratorially. “It’s too late to walk back on the marriage, but we can be in crisis, if you think that’s more interesting.”

Rey rolled her eyes. 

“Thanks, but being married to you is interesting enough.”

And so, with their story tentatively set, Rey and Ben took their room at the inn. It was a homely building with low ceilings, soft light, and no more than ten rooms for rent. It was situated several streets back from Cormond's square, and while not secluded, exactly, it was off-path. It was as secure a location as they could hope for in a city. So long as they were careful, Ben didn't foresee trouble.

Their first few days were spent holed up in their room. They showered in the mornings, took baths at night, and kissed and fucked on the sprawling, soft bed with their window open on the city. They took meals in bed too, and while they ate browsed the HoloNet for news and videos. When they could be bothered, the cross-referenced maps and HoloNet records for the most promising shipyards. Mostly though, they recouped. By then it'd been ten months since they'd gone rogue, and most of that time had been spent running. They were exhausted, and it felt good to finally fall asleep on a bed neither one of them was in danger of toppling out of.

After a week, however, the confinement started to chaf. Rey had suggested coming to Brentaal for the noise, so they dug their veils and cloaks out of their luggage and began exploring, both eager for the crowd.

It shocked Ben initially, how similar it was to Hanna City. He hadn’t been there since he was a child, but he remembered it perfectly. Its streets crawled with sentients, bright as noon even during the night cycle, and the smell of street food wafted out from every alley. HoloVid projectors playing advertisements, news feeds, and political debates all layered over each other, competing with the hum of the Opera House. Cormond had its own cultural markers-- the Trade Hall and Museum of the Arts drew heavy traffic-- but it was similar enough that if he didn’t watch where he was going, Ben was liable to get lost in an old thought.

“You’re distracted,” Rey said one afternoon when the pull to lose himself had reached a peak.

“Not at all.” He thumbed the lip of the mug she’d brought him. They were seated outside a cafe, enjoying the shade of a transplanted evergreen. “I’m just listening.”

“So am I.” She tapped her temple. “And you aren’t making it difficult. If there’s something you want to talk about--”

“No,” he interrupted, grimacing. “It’s nothing.”

Rey didn’t believe that. He didn’t blame her. It wasn’t a convincing lie, and even if it had been, she spent a lot of time in his mind. It was alarming in the beginning, and he’d almost been afraid of it. Not of her, but of the power. He could enter minds himself, root until he found what he wanted; with Rey, he could even do it painlessly. The woman, though-- she came and went without so much as a whisper. For all he knew, she lived in his skull. 

It’d reminded him at first of former masters and assailants. Ben couldn’t remember a time when he’d really been alone. Even when he’d felt most abandoned, left without anyone to look to, there’d always been a hiss in his head. It stoked anxieties and anger, coaxed impulsivity and lead to disaster, and much as he cared for Rey, he wasn’t sure he could trust her. Not like that. Not with his fully unguarded, naked mind. It’d been exploited so often before. What was stopping her?

Something, apparently, because she never used it against him. In the beginning, she barely used it at all. Sensing his discomfort, she’d been careful not to intrude, though he knew that checking the talent was difficult. She was less careful about it now, and more days than not, Ben caught her responding to something he hadn’t said. Sometimes, she even did so before he realized he was thinking. It was getting less alarming by the day, and turning out to be more comforting.

Sometimes, though, it was still annoying. Rey was relentless, and worse: chatty. When she felt even the slightest tightening of his nerves, she wanted to talk about it. It was strange, and usually embarrassing. 

“Do you miss it?” she asked, refusing to let the conversation lie.

Ben sighed. Couldn’t they just have caf?

“Miss what?”

Her brow quirked. She knew he was playing dumb. “Hanna City. We could go if you want.”

He did want to, but it was pointless. He couldn’t land a ship there now. The place was probably crawling with Palpatine’s spies. The only place more dangerous to visit was Tatooine.

“We’d be surrounded in half an hour.” He scoffed. “If that.”

Rey’s eyes were neutral, but her mouth turned down.

“We wouldn’t be captured,” she assured, almost sounding offended. “You wouldn’t get hurt. I wouldn’t let you.”

Ben’s hand flexed around his mug. She meant that. He could feel the finality of it. Her Force Signature, green and growing and full of promise, reached out like a vine. She wrapped him in it, warm and assuring, and some of his annoyance banked.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” He lifted his veil, sipped the caf, and lowered it just as quickly. “It’s the city. We’d destroy half of it getting back to the ship. There’d be too many casualties. I don’t think I--”

His jaw clenched, teeth snapping the thought clean in half. Across the table, Rey shifted in her seat. Her mouth softened and she reached to cover his hand with hers.

“You’ll see it again. I promise.”

He wanted to believe her.

*********************************************************

They were made, of all places, on Sneeve. Kriffing _Sneeve_. Ben could’ve died, both metaphorically and literally. The former because Sneeve had been his idea and he’d spent the entire flight assuring Rey it was safe. He said no less than ten times-- she’d kept count-- that they were done looking over their shoulders.

The latter, because a Sith Trooper took a shot at him from the treeline and only missed because Ben hadn’t quite fallen asleep.

He felt it coming before he heard the blaster backfire. The beach he and Rey were lounging on was serene, and Ben was halfway napping, lulled by the lap of the tide when _something_ honed its focus on him. He felt the woods behind the shore shudder and drawing back, and the palpable shift in the Force jolted him awake.

“They’re here,” he hissed.

Though he couldn’t tell from what tree, he could feel the scope of a Trooper trained on him. There were several more on the ground, either waiting for orders or planning a run attack.

“How many?” Rey asked, keeping her voice low and body relaxed. 

She stayed stretched out on the sand as if nothing were wrong. Or rather, she almost did. At his warning she’d drawn her saber, and her thumb was at the ready over its activator.

“At least five. Probably more. They’re between us and the ship.”

The woman cussed. “What was it you said about cities being dangerous?”

“You want to argue about this _now_?”

“Not arguing.” Her free hand dug through the bag at her side. She pulled out her back up blaster and passed it to him, nodding to the one he kept strapped to his thigh. “I’m just saying that we haven’t had to blast our way out of one of those yet.”

He huffed a humorless laugh, but took the blaster and freed his own. If they made it out, he was sure they’d argue. He could already sense Rey taking notes of what points to make, and hoped to any god listening they lived long enough for her to.

A comm went live in the woods. Ben couldn’t make the words out, but they were frantic. The Trooper in the trees must’ve seen them draw weapons. Realizing the team had been made, the leader barked their men into action, and seconds later fired the shot they had on Ben. Too late, though. He was ready, and rolled onto his stomach in time to direct a Force push at the incoming plasma bolt. It veered left and hit a dune, blowing the sand open, and under the meager cover, he and Rey took their chance. They sprinted down the beach, zagging to avoid now open fire, and slipped into the woods to the right of the small beach. Heavy footfalls rang behind them, and even dampened by the loose ground, Ben could hear the clank of armored heavies.

"Split!" he yelled ahead to Rey who, being more agile, was already scrambling into the canopy.

Good, he thought. She'd lose them quickly in the treetops. All he had to do was think of something for himself, and keep their bond open in case one of them met with trouble. 

Falling back on a breathing exercise he'd learned from Luke, Ben bolted through a patch of underbrush. His pumping arms caught on thorns and craggy bark, smearing blood, not that the heavies needed it to stay on his trail. Their armor wasn't slowing them down as much as he'd hoped, and they easily crushed most of the obstacles he had to leap over. 

He only turned to shoot when the woods dumped out into a clearing. He double aimed at what should've been weak spots in their armor, but the plasma bolts ricocheted. Ben cussed. They must've been wearing a redesign; bad luck. He'd have to take them down manually. But first, he needed cover, because the failed shots gave away his position, and both Troopers were already leveling their guns across the meadow.

One focused on laying suppressing fire, which Ben only just managed to clear. He dove behind a large boulder, hoping to ride out the wave. Unfortunately, the gun seemed to be a redesign as well. He counted seconds, anticipating the plasma overheat: ten, twenty, twenty five, thirty. And that should've been it; the gun should've sputtered, giving him a window to strike back, but it didn't.

The sweep continued, splintering tree trunks, kicking up dirt, and chipping away slivers of the boulder at his back. Kriff. He was pinned, and had to find a way out before the Troopers realized all they had to do was move in.

Ben spent the next few crucial seconds trying to pinpoint one of the Trooper's Force Signatures. He sent out tendrils of energy, let them snake until one snagged on the sharpshooter aligning their scope in a tree. He huffed a laugh-- got you--, and as the suppressing fire arced right, peered around the boulder and gave a sharp, focused _pull_. The sharpshooter screeched, barely audible over the assault, and took a tumble they’d never get up from. 

Despite it nearly being swallowed by gunfire, the heavy heard his captain's fall. It broke his concentration, and the Trooper ceased fire to call out his superior's name. The soldier pivoted, exposing a back that Ben scanned for weak spots. Squinting, he thought he could see just below the lip of the helmet. 

It was a long shot, maybe impossible, and if he missed it, he wouldn’t get another. But what did Han used to say? _Never tell me the odds_.

He took the shot, and it landed.

“What I want to know,” Rey said, “is who we have to thank for the munitions mods. I mean, the blasters I understand.” She swiped a palmful of bacta over his cut up forearm. “They’re more stable. That suppressor, though? It should’ve blown that Trooper’s arm off.”

Ben gnawed his lip to counter the burning in his arm. Rey hadn’t been stingy with the bacta. She didn’t have to be. She’d stolen a fistful of medpacks loaded with it from her pursuers, who she picked off one by one from the trees.

He hadn’t been able to watch, which he regretted. He loved seeing her fight. She was agile, strong, and pitiless when enraged. They sparred often enough for her to have adopted some of his style, and it was interesting to see how she twisted his tricks. If he hadn’t been so busy, Ben would’ve liked to slip into her mind and watch her work: see her sabre twirl and swing, gathering momentum before she double-gripped the hilt like an old-world claymore; watch her leap toward her opponent, snarling and showing teeth.

“Hux,” Ben said. “Originally, anyway. He started work on something like it two years ago. He brought it up a few times in meetings, but it never got traction. His replacement must’ve picked it after he was neutralized.”

_Neutralized_ was a polite way of saying Hux had been executed. Ben wasn’t on board when it happened, and only found out several hours after the fact. It hadn’t upset him, but in hindsight, it would’ve been smart to pretend it had. It would’ve given him a cover for visiting the bastard’s office and data-purging it.

“Well, whoever they are, they’re a grub-weasel.” 

Satisfied with the bacta coating, Rey resealed the medpack and tossed it aside. It skidded across the floor, not of their ship, but of a cabin they’d found in the woods they’d been chased into.

After meeting up, they decided it was better to wait out the night away from their ship. They’d killed all the Troopers that had ambushed them on the beach, but there was no way of knowing if more were waiting back at base. To be sure they had enough strength to mount an attack, they planned to spend the night in the woods. Rey had seen the cabin during her initial retreat, and once they were safe, led Ben back to it. 

They broke in and lit a fire in the hearth before tending his wounds, which had given the flames enough time to warm the place through. It was small, economical structure: a single room with a stove, hearth, and sleep cot. It was better than camping, but admittedly not by much.

Cuffing his sleeve to keep it from trailing through the bacta, Ben watched as Rey raised from a crouch at his side. She went to the hearth and jabbed the kindling, then crossed to the cot and fell onto it heavily. The ancient coiled metal that held up the mattress gave and bounced back, squeaking dangerously. He wondered if it’d hold them both, or if she’d even want it to.

“Are you angry?” he asked, not sure he wanted an answer.

“I just called some tech a grub-weasel. What do you think?”

He frowned. “I meant at me.”

“Why would I be?”

“Because Sneeve was my call, and you could’ve died.”

Rey didn’t answer immediately, and stayed flat on the bed. Ben didn’t dare dip into her mind, but he could feel it working.

“They were going to catch up sometime,” she said eventually. “We always knew that.”

“But--”

“Ben,” she interrupted, sitting up to face him. “You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. Living like this comes with risks you can’t plan for.”

“I know that.”

And he did. He’d been on the run before. That wasn’t the problem, though.

“Then what is?” she asked, scooting to bend her knees over the side of the bed.

He flushed, but otherwise didn’t react to the mental intrusion. His mind was racing; he could feel it. She probably hadn’t even needed to dig. His heart beat so near the surface that she could’ve heard it from where she sat across. 

“I asked you to come with me in the beginning.” He’d begged, actually, which would’ve been humiliating if she hadn’t made up her mind so soon. “It was my idea to run, and whatever happens to you is--”

He bit his cheek. He didn’t think he could say it. Thankfully, he didn’t have to. She skimmed the fear from his head. Her expression softened, then she clucked her tongue and patted her leg in invitation. Accepting it, he rose to his knees and walked on them to settle between hers. When he was safely enveloped in the warmth of her thighs looked up. To his relief, she was looking down with affection. Her mind was as open as her face, and neither was accusing.

“You did ask,” she allowed. “But I’m not your child or kid sister. I make my own choices, and I said yes. I wanted to come.”

She slid her hand down her thigh slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted. He held ground, hungry for contact, and when she gave it he moaned. It was a weak, bloodless thing, and it should’ve embarrassed him, but it didn’t. He didn’t have the strength to be embarrassed when her fingers were in his hair. They burrowed deep, breaking tangles and ignoring sweat. She massaged his scalp, pausing now and then to tug at the roots. It bared his throat, but he didn’t mind. She only ever kissed it. If he was level with her, maybe she even would have then. 

“Do we have to sleep?” he asked

His hands kneaded the swell of her calves then worked up, prodding the backs of her knees. He knew they were tender. It was one of the first things he discovered when they first went to bed. He’d stripped her fully and explored until she dragged him up by the hair, aching and slick and demanding. And the trick still worked. She gasped on contact and breathed out humming.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she answered. “We don’t know what’s waiting back at camp.” Before Ben could pout, she tugged his hair again and turned his chin up. When she had his attention, she gave a wide grin. “But once we’re outbound, I’ll wring you dry. How’s that sound?”

His cock gave a weak throb, and he had to squeeze his thighs together.

“Fair enough.”

Her smile stretched. “‘til orbit, then.”

*************************************************************

The bunk on their current ship was the biggest they’d had so far, but it was still a distinct possibility one of them might roll off. Usually that was an annoyance, something for them to bicker about.

Just now, it was the crux of Rey’s game.

“Hush,” she soothed, rubbing a hand along his naked thigh, up to the knee bent over her shoulder. She worked back down; petting, stabilizing, bringing him back to the moment. “Easy. Do you want to knock me off the bed?”

Ben shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. His mouth was open, but so far he’d only been able to sputter. His tongue was heavy, head full of fog that was only getting thicker. 

“No, that’s right,” she purred. “You like me here.”

She adjusted his leg, lifting his hips from the bed and resting his weight against her belly. Her knees were planted, but she was right. If he wasn’t careful she’d slip, and he didn’t want that. Not now.

They’d both stripped, working layers off between kisses and playful bites. Ben had let her clamber on top when they made it to bed. She’d been at his ear, suckling and tonguing the tender flesh between sugary praise; good and handsome and whatever else nonsense came to mind. He suspected it was a trick too late; he was already boneless, cock twitching as she slid down his belly and hips. He’d grunted when her cunt slid over him, wet folds parting, and he’d hoped-- but no. She was only teasing him. She rutted for a few blissful moments before kicking his legs apart, bringing one up over her shoulder to expose him. And now here they were: her clever fingers buried in his ass, pumping and curling as he tried not to buck her off the bed.

“You do like this, don’t you? You aren’t just humoring me?”

Her palm knocked against him and her fingers bottomed out, burrowing to the knuckle. Ben hissed; her hands weren’t big, but it’d been a long time. The stretch was new again, but yes, he liked it. He nodded, not wanting to hear how pitched his voice would be. Grinning down at him, Rey accepted it and went back to her game.

“Knew you would,” she said, and turned to kiss his knee. 

She rocked her fingers against the newly reached clench of muscle. It shuddered around her, but she was patient and teased it open. She curled her fingers and stroked his walls, seeking out tender spots and nerves. The found a few, and they soothed the ache, made him shudder and bloom. Soon enough she bottomed out, rough knuckles kissing the tight furl of his entrance, and when he felt the drag his cock jumped, dribbling on his belly.

Rey cooed, half sympathy and half something else-- something wild and proud. Her mouth was open on a pant, her chest and face flushed. Sweat prickled her, and when her fingers moved, she moaned as greedily. The throaty sounds tightened the draw of his balls; he wanted her to fuck him. He wanted her to work another finger in and pump hard, make his hole and belly ache, let the force and friction tip him over the edge. He wanted her to milk him through it: fist his spitting cock and stroke, still fucking him, until he was bleating beneath her.

_That’s filthy, Ben._

Her words sliced through the mental fog as cleanly as if she’d spoken them. He wanted to call back and teased her a bit through their connection. His cock was throbbing, and every thrust of her fingers knocked a grunt from him. It’d only be fair to flood her with however much of that he could throw. But his concentration was shot; she’d seen to that, it was only getting worse. _Please_ , was all he managed, and it wasn’t enough. Rey clucked her tongue and kept pace, slowly stretching him out.

“We’ve got to be careful, remember?” She bumped a bundle of nerves that made him whimper like he’d been stabbed. Rey shushed him, but stroked it again, and a thick glob of arousal dripped. “Be nice and still for me a while. Can you do that?”

He couldn’t. Not perfectly, but she let it go. Rey was enjoying herself, and it made her forgiving. She took her time playing with his ass, fucking slow and deep, peppering his leg with kisses whenever he got frantic. She eventually worked a third finger in, then a fourth, straining his entrance, and used her thumb to tease the shuddering ring. He yelped at that and nearly knocked her off the bed with a snap of his hips, but she caught herself and muttered something about impatience. Then she went back to it: stroking the furl and softly rocking her wrist until Ben was a slick of sweat.

“Do you want inside to be inside me now?” she asked eventually.

Her voice was a crackle of need, and Ben could smell the sweet musk of arousal just under his own. He wondered if she’d only broken down because her cunt was dripping. Well, either way, he was grateful, and he nodded. But she didn’t allow that this time.

“Tell me.”

She slipped his leg off her shoulder and lowered it slowly to the bed. The dead limb prickled and Ben winced, but was glad for the discomfort. It gave him something to focus on.

“I want inside,” he groaned. “Let me. Please.”

He wasn’t sure he’d last long now. She’d wound him tight, and just the thought of her wet heat made his gut lurch. He’d be damned if she wasn’t close behind him, though. He could feel her own edge clawing closer in the rush of her energy. It bounded around the room, swelling the heat, and teetering near frantic, which soothed his pride. The field wasn’t level, exactly, but it wasn’t totally unbalanced. Rey was a coil of want as much as he was, and even if he couldn’t feel it then, it’d have been obvious seconds later.

When she moved to mount his hips, he could see how soaked she was. Her soft folds glistened, and her cunt was smeared with slick. Her thighs and pink, swollen clit were sloppy with it. She’d been touching herself, and Ben wondered if she’d been matching the thrusts into her body and his. His mouth cottoned at the thought and he swallowed audibly. If that was true, he was jealous at being robbed of the pleasure.

_Next time._

Her voice came into his head again, full of promise and barely caged need. He didn’t have time to entertain the thought, though, because seconds later he was sinking into her. Hand firm around his base, she fed his length in. She whimpered, bouncing to adjust to his girth. The aborted little thrusts brought her down in tortuous increments, and Ben bit through his chapped lip as he fought to keep still. She hadn’t rescinded the order yet, and he didn’t want to hurt her. She was small, and she needed time pry herself open.

“Kriff,” she spat. “You’re thick.”

His cock twitched at that as helplessly as the first time she’d said it.

“Should we stop?”

She shook her head and braced her hands on his chest. Digging her nails in, and she bared down with her hips.

“No, it’s good, just-- _ah…_ \-- give me a minute.”

He rested a hand on her flank and rubbed, focusing on breathing evenly as Rey settled herself. Her cunt was tight, wet, and leaking down to the root of him. If this ended up being all that she wanted, he’d be happy. He could rest inside, pulsing and raw, rub her clit and feel her muscles clench. It’d be perfect; anything would. Whatever she wanted.

“Ok,” she breathed, more to herself than him. Several minutes of cautious rocking had her fully seated.“You can start, just be gentle.”

He would’ve been even if she hadn’t asked. Even astride like she was, Rey looked small. When they sparred, trained, and fought together, the woman’s personality and power loomed large. It was easier to forget he had weight on her then. In bed, though, when she mewled and pawed, her slightness was impossible to ignore. He felt like one wrong move would crush her, like his hands were too stupid and clumsy to be trusted with the gift she’d made of her body.

Carefully, just like she asked, he rolled his hips, bucking up into her wetness. He was already deep, and could feel her entrance clenching rhythmically around his root. The slight shift burrowed him in impossibly further. Prying taut muscle, he bottomed out, felt his hips knock hers; felt the head of his cock nudge the spongy, deep wall of her cunt. Somewhere she couldn’t reach on her own, soft and vulnerable. 

She cussed, word melting into a moan, and rocked back to meet him.

It didn’t take long, like Ben suspected. They were both keyed up, and Rey’s strokes, less timid now, tunneled his vision. The hand on her flank trailed down to thumb her swollen clit, and the trembling it put in her cunt dragged him to the edge. He fought it, falling back on a decade of suppressive training. He wanted to feel her go first, so he bit down the need. Rubbing circles into the nub, he focused on angling his thrusts and brushing the head of his cock against a tender spot. It landed every few strokes, making whine and double over, loose hair falling on his chest and face.

“Close,” she sputtered, nails biting into his nipples. 

A sound very near a growl rumbled his chest and he redoubled, rubbing frantically at her clit. His hips kept rhythm, ignoring the burn building in his thighs, and he looked down their bodies to watch her trip over. Seconds later she did, belly clenching, hardening to a washboard as she groaned. It was throaty and pitched low, and once it sputtered out, her body when live again. She rolled languidly, taking inches at a time to milk herself through the aftershocks. Her cunt spasmed and creamed, coating his length, and Ben had to bite through his lip again to keep from spilling. 

“Easy,” she sighed. “Almost there. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Too late, he thought. His lips were going to scab. The sting was soon forgotten, though, because she slipped him out of her sticky heat. His cock fell, heavy and slicked to the root with her release, to twitch helplessly against his belly. He bleated from the loss, but it didn’t last long. Rey’s hand came to cover him, stroking with practiced ease, and at the first brush of her thumb to the head, he came. His moan keened higher than hers and he shuddered, riding out the pulsing of his balls and overworked cock. Rey tugged him through it, her free hand brushing the hair from his sticky, flushed face.

“That’s it,” she cooed. “A little more-- there it is.” 

She gave a final stoke, and the last weak dribble of cum splattered his across belly. It joined the mess, tacking his skin, then, not wanting to overtax him, she pulled her hand away and left his cock to wither.

Finishing him off was apparently all that’d been keeping her from jellyfing. Once he was spent, she collapsed next to him. She took the wall, nestling between it and his side and laced their legs before burying her face in the crook of his neck. She breathed deep, her exhale tickling his skin as much as her hair did. He probably reeked, but she didn’t seem to care. She also didn’t care that his cum was drying on her knuckles. She didn’t wipe it clean before draping her arm over his chest.

“What do you think?” she asked after a while, voice thick and weary. “Was it worth waiting the extra night?”

Ben huffed, and used the last of his strength to turn and kiss her forehead.

It would’ve been worth it to wait a week. It always was.

*******************************************************

Rey picked the next three worlds, the last of which was Coruscant. She wanted to see a city again, and the ecumenopolis snagged her interest. Ben considered fighting the choice, but ultimately decided against it. After all, it wasn’t a city they’d almost died in.

“It’ll be different,” he warned as he set their course. He tapped in the coordinates on the console while she prepared for a hyperjump. “More different than I think you realize. It’s almost entirely artificial.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been to a city before.”

“Not like this.”

Coruscant was incomprehensible to anyone who’d never been. The surface was a marvel of urban planning to be sure, but there was nowhere left for plant and animal life to grow. Anything non-sentient was imported, and while the topmost level was glittering, clean, and regulated, everything beneath was hideous. The lower levels were impoverished and crime ridden, and many residents didn’t have clean air. The water was bad where it even ran at all, and some levels were nothing but ruined, abyssal plains. It was a duracrete monstrosity, as divorced from the Force as anything could be.

Still, there was no denying the planet’s appeal. It’d be easy to hide on, given how many levels there were. There were thousands of hotels to hop between, and plenty of ships to pick from when it was time to leave. He and Rey could disappear and probably spend several months planet-side before needing to flee. There’d be time to replenish their stores, credits, and valuables. It was a smart move, even if it was bold.

There was no doubt in Ben’s mind that Coruscant was crawling with spies. Palpatine would have agents all over it, and not just in the hopes of catching them. The world was high profile, and he’d want to keep watch. Resistance cells had historically been able to operate there, and he’d want to ensure they were crushed. If any sympathizers were left, they were deep cover. He hoped so, anyway, the alternative being that they were dead.

He didn’t tell Rey that. He wasn’t sure if she’d factored running into anyone they knew into her plans. If she hadn’t, he didn’t want to bring it up and worry her.

If she had, he didn’t want to make it worse.

They abandoned their ship and secured their first lodging in Level 5. Ben would’ve gone lower, but that was impossible. No one went further down; here were the last vestiges of breathable air, and even then it was safer to wear a rebreather outdoors. Sometimes it was better to wear one inside too, but certain buildings had air scrubbers that made it unnecessary. The inn he bought them a night in one of those, thankfully. He didn’t like the idea of having to sleep in a mask.

“This is awful,” she said when they were safely in their room. Her rebreather was off, but her tone was still flat. “The people who live here-- how does it not kill them?”

“It usually does,” Ben said without flinching. “But don’t worry. We aren’t staying. We’re going to work our way up. It’s just safer to start below.” Rey scoffed, and he amended. “In terms of not being arrested. I can only guess what exposure could do to our lungs.”

That wasn’t something they had to worry about. Their rebreathers were good, and Rey had the means to modify them for the better. 

“How high up until we can walk without rebreathers?”

Ben considered. He hadn’t been on Coruscant in a while, and it was possible that the pollution was creeping up. 

“I’d guess Level 20, but I really don’t know.” He tossed his rebreather onto the table beside hers. “We’ll find out when we get there. Try not to worry for now.”

It took them a week to reach Level 50, by which time the air mostly safe. It still stank but wasn’t noxious, so they packed up their rebreathers, trusting that as they went up, the smell would die. They spent their nights in various inns, and during the day traveled on foot or bartered rides. They traveled light, which made it easy to pick up odd jobs and catch a speeder, and kept their story as simple as they could. They said they were married again and rotated through a list of names whenever someone asked. Admittedly, though, that wasn’t often below Level 40. The dregs of the Coruscant weren’t the place to volunteer information.

It was easy to scrape by without a story at the bottom. He and Rey kept one at the ready, though, and it came in handy. Some of their employers or last-minute rideshares were chatty. Having prefab details kept them from blowing their cover, and by the time they reached Level 150, it almost felt natural.

At the end of the first month they made it to Level 1500, a milestone they celebrated by renting a room for four days. While they hadn’t run into much trouble, scaling the city was exhausting. They deserved a rest; Rey most especially. Her connection with the Force was empathetic, which made traveling the lower levels difficult. The abject misery threatened to drown her, and they weren’t out of it yet. Level 3125, while not perfect, was considered the turning point.

“I can’t believe how different it is from the surface down here,” Rey muttered on their last night on 1500. “It’s like a whole other world.”

“It is,” Ben agreed. “And if you get people talking, you’ll find that’s what most hate about this place.”

She and Ben were in the shower, legs laced together where they sat facing each other under the spray. The water was still hot, and they’d been in it for half an hour. Neither wanted to leave the safety of the steam.

“You were right.” She frowned. “I couldn’t have guessed how bad it was.”

“In your defense, I brought you to the Underworld. Like you said, the surface is an entirely different.”

“That’s one level out of over five thousand. It shouldn’t be that way.”

No, it shouldn’t. Most people this far down would die without ever seeing sunlight.

“It’s still good we came,” he redirected. “We’ve had luck restocking credits, and our ration bag is almost full again.” He slid his foot cross the tiles to nudge her with his toes. “This was a good pick. You’ll feel better on 3125.”

The woman huffed and rested her chin on her knees. “I hope so.”

If nothing else, she couldn’t possibly feel worse.

A week later they broke Level 2133, which was a metropolis by comparison. There was a public seating area made of mismatched chairs and benches, a row of outhouses, and three shop shacks open for service. One sold food and imported water, one had beer, and the other a mix of supplies. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Ben and Rey visited all of them, and once they had food took the most secluded bench. They sat for a few hours, eating and drinking and resting their feet, and Ben was just thinking of suggesting they leave when Rey’s breath snagged. The sound was sharp, even dampened by the veil she was wearing. It perked his ears, and he tensed.

“What is it?”

He fought the impulse to turn and scan the pavillion for what she was seeing. That would only raise suspicion; it wouldn’t help.

“ _Who_ is it,” she corrected. Her eyes were trained over his shoulder. “Poe and Finn, by the beer shack. There’s maybe fifty feet between us.”

Ben tensed. “Have they seen you?”

“Poe has. Finn’s back is turned, but I can tell they’re talking.” She snorted. “Probably this exact conversation.”

Probably, and what were the odds? 

Rey hadn’t heard from them since she and Ben left. She’d risked sending a transmission before going dark, explaining that she was safe so that neither would worry. They couldn’t risk being tailed by her friends. It’d compromise their position, not to mention put the two men at risk. Ben told her to make it clear that she didn’t need help, and it worked. They hadn’t tried to reestablish contact since.

“What should we do?” Rey asked.

Foot bouncing on the duracrete, she took one of Ben’s hands in both of her own. She squeezed his fingers, seeking comfort, and squeezed back.

“That depends. Are they a threat?”

Her brow furrowed, and for a moment Ben thought the question made her angry. But no-- she was spying. He could feel her reach. Ever practical, she didn’t waste time being offended on their behalf. Instead, she sent out tendrils to skim their minds.

“No,” she said. “And actually, they’re wondering the same. Poe’s thinking about grabbing Finn and making a run for it.”

That was better reassurance than anything. To much ease on their end would’ve been suspicious. Coruscant’s Underworld had always been a bad place to run into old contacts. If Dameron thought this might be a set up, Ben was certain it wasn’t.

“We could disappear. If they’re neutral, they won’t expose us. Or,” he added when her hands went stiff, “you could try establishing contact. Discreetly.” He stressed the word. “I’m sure they’d be thrilled to talk to you.”

Her breath caught again. “Could I? You mean it?” 

He nodded, and her grip on his hand tightened. She brought it up and kissed his palm through her veil. It was a tender, but unfortunately he didn’t have time to return it. Releasing his hand, the woman began gesturing over his shoulder. No. Not gesturing; she was signing. The unfamiliar style and her speed made deciphering impossible. But not for Dameron, apparently. He felt the man’s focus hone. It cut a line across the pavillion, darted between his back and Rey’s hand. The exchange lasted for several minutes, sometimes with long pauses on Rey’s end. At the close, though, she’d gotten what she wanted.

“He and Finn are leaving. He gave me directions of where we can meet in an hour.”

“Is it public?”

She shook her head. “It sounded like an inn.”

His brow quirked. That was a brave choice for someone who suspected he and Rey were operatives. Then again, the two talked for a while.

“Stop looking at him,” he said. “Eyes down. Finish your water.”

Rey was right. It was an inn, one several miles from the pavillion. As he and the woman sunk deeper into backstreets, Ben’s suspicion resurfaced. If they were spies, if they’d somehow managed to hide their intentions, this would be the perfect place for an assassination.

“Stop that,” she hissed.

“Stop what?”

“Panicking.” She fell back to link their arms. They must be getting close. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Stupid question. “Of course.”

“Then relax. I know what I saw. Besides, Poe’s not that clever.”

He couldn’t argue that. He didn’t know the man personally, but he knew Rey, and she _was_ clever. So he swallowed the anxiety, focusing instead on the pleasantness of having her stuck to his side. 

The warmth of that lasted the rest of the walk and into the inn, the entrance to which they slipped through behind a group. Dodging the check clerk, the two broke from the crowd and took a set of broken duracrete stairs down a level. The hall it dumped into was short, poorly lit, and only had three doors to choose from. Rey didn't have to guess, though. With Ben still on her arm, she hurried to the furthest one from the steps. It's number was gone, and it's face was dingy and scuffed from decades of wear. Following presumably prescribed instruction, the woman beat a pattern with her knuckles, and the internal lockdown disengaged.

The vertical panels withdrew into the floor and ceiling with a squeal. Rey and Ben hurried through, and the panels resealed behind them, trapping them inside. Ben's panicked ticked up again, and he had just enough time to realize there were no other exits before both men were on them, eyes wide and running and--

And sweeping Rey into their arms.

He relaxed, falling back to give the friends space. He scanned them for weapons to be safe, but neither was carrying, and the energy rolling off of them was as non threatening as it was exuberant. They were grinning, misty eyed, and talking over one another as they bombarded the woman with greetings. It went on for several minutes, and not once during was Rey able to get a word in edgewise.

"I can't believe it," Finn kept muttering, hands clawed on her shoulders to prove she was solid.

_Me either_ , Rey thought. Or maybe Ben did. Either way, it crossed both their minds.

Once Dameron and Finn's initial energy dropped-- which took nearly ten minutes-- Rey was able to wriggle out from their grip and step back to observe them.

"You both look good," she sighed in relief.

Ben agreed. They were healthier than most in the Underworld. Both men were leaner than before, but their muscles were still firm and corded. Despite the pervasive grime, their skin was clean and clear and glowing, and they looked like they'd been sleeping well. Both their hair was longer-- Finn styled in twists and Poe's slicked back--, and Dameron had even grown a beard.

"So do you," Finn said. His eyes tracked between her strong arms and legs, and he gave her core a playful punch. "Really good, actually. You could probably chuck me out of a window."

Rey grinned. "Thanks to Ben. He hasn’t let me slack on training."

For the first time since they'd entered, the two men's attention cut to Ben. He held his ground, refusing to flinch, though he'd have liked to. The easy openness they shared with Rey turned to a guarded appraisal. Not hostile, exactly, but not wholly trusting either. He couldn't blame them for that. The connection he and Rey shared was their own. There was no way to make them understand it, especially not when their most recent memories of him were as of an enemy. He was lucky they'd let him into the room at all.

"Ben," Finn repeated, testing the weight of the name. While it hung between them, he scanned Ben head to foot. Like he was relearning the shape of him, forcing out an old memory. "Ben Solo, right?"

Ben swallowed, wondering if it was an accusation. He knew Finn had been watching when Han fell.

"That's what they named me," he said carefully, hedging his bets.

For a moment, Finn looked ready to say something else. His teeth dug into his lip, and his eyes were keen. They weren't harsh, but curious, still unsatisfied, and Ben braced to be hit with a question he couldn't skirt. Thankfully, however, Dameron intervened. Clearing his throat, he knocked Finn's shoulder and broke his focus.

"Why don't you and Rey hit the couch?" He nodded through a that led to a small sitting room. "She's missed a lot, and I bet she's got questions."

She did. Ben could feel them beating against the back of her teeth, but still she hesitated.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Me and the big guy are taking the kitchen. We’ll meet up later.”

It wasn’t a request, and when Dameron turned for the small recess that must’ve been the kitchen, he didn’t look to see if Ben was following. Smug bastard, Ben thought, and looked to Rey for an out. But the woman was already being tugged into the sitting room. She glanced over her shoulder long enough to mouth “sorry” before turning her attention to her friend. Fully enmeshed in their conversation, she wouldn’t be of any help. Which meant, unfortunately, that Ben had no choice.

Resigned to whatever Poe had planned, Ben crossed the few steps into the kitchen. It was, like he’d expected, cramped and dingy, and for lack of anywhere better to sit, Dameron was on the counter. Two glasses were at his hip, and he glanced up from filling them to nod to the opposite counter. Accepting the invitation, Ben hopped up and tried to make himself small. No good, though. The space wasn’t meant for two, and if either moved too quickly, their knees would knock.

“It’ll kill me if I don’t say it,” Dameron began, resealing the bottle. Its label was gone, but the liquid was honey brown. “Coruscant is the second to last place I ever expected to see you.”

The question was out before Ben could catch it. “What’s the first?” 

“In my apartment. But, like they say: first time for everything.”

Poe tucked one of the glasses between his thighs before scooping the other up and offering it to Ben. The alcohol stirred, kicking up a bright stench. It smelled like speeder fuel, and probably didn’t taste much better. This grade of liquor was cheap, easy to get, and easier to poison. Ben latched onto the thought and hesitated, fingers drumming the counter. 

“What?” Poe asked, then seconds later quirked his brow. “Give me a break. You’re Rey’s shooter. I’m not trying to poison you.”

Rey didn’t need a shooter, and anyway: “I was Kylo Ren before that.”

“And Leia’s son the whole time.” The man huffed, sharp and agitated, and pursed his lips. “Take it or don’t. I don’t care. Just don’t accuse me.”

He kept the cup extended, but his hold had gone limp-wristed. It cocked the glass, playing into his alleged disinterest. But Ben didn’t believe it. He got the feeling Dameron cared quite a lot, and suspected that Poe wouldn’t forget how this went. Biting back instinct, he took the offered glass.

“Sorry,” Ben muttered. “It’s just--”

“Been a while?” Poe smirked. “Yea, I bet.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, and took a drink to buy time. It was a mistake. The alcohol was as vile as it smelled. It burned his tongue and he coughed, feeling his face screw. Dameron laughed, then took his own in hand.

“I should’ve warned you that it tastes like Jawa piss, but-- couldn’t resist. I haven’t gotten anybody with that one in a while.” He took a conservative sip before setting his glass down again. “So, who talks first?”

Ben opted for honestly. “I’d prefer you.”

“That’s probably fair. I’m sure news has been hard to come by where you’ve been.”

“It has,” he agreed, but didn’t elaborate. “What are you doing here? Is it official?”

“It was, up until three months ago.” Poe blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall. “Me and Finn had a cell-- fifty strong and still growing up on Level 5121.”

Ben didn’t try to mask his surprise. 

“That’s almost the surface.”

“There’s more interest in fighting back up top. Down here-- well, look around." Poe gestured to the general squalor. "Why should anyone stuck here care who's winning?"

That was grim, but true. It was difficult to get a Resistance cell up to speed in prime conditions. Somewhere like here, where word of Palpatine still hadn’t reached entire levels, it’d be nearly impossible.

“But if you’re asking if we were worried about being caught,” Poe continued, “we were. We weren’t planning on staying high forever. 5121 was temporary, and once we hit recruitment capacity, we were supposed to disappear.”

Ben took another sip of the drink, and Dameron tracked it. The man watched him swallow and lick the moisture from his lips.

“What went wrong?” Ben asked, trying to keep cool under observation.

He still wasn’t sure what his host was looking for.

“Oh, you know,” Dameron sighed. “What usually does: too little traction too late. We hung around too long, and someone must’ve noticed because we got hit with a night raid.” He rocked his shoulders against the wall, settling into his stance. His knees widened and one knocked Ben’s inner thigh. “They blew us away. You and Rey had any run-ins with Sith Troopers?”

“A few months ago.”

“Then you know all about the munitions mods.” Poe shook his head slowly. “Subverting the overheat. Who knew how big of a difference that few seconds of cool down made, right?”

Ben thought back to being pinned behind a boulder, a rain of plasma bolts tearing relentlessly through trees and sandy earth, and of how his only way out had been through his use of the Force.

“Who knew,” he muttered. “How many survivors?”

“Just us. It was a massacre. We only got away because Finn knew a guy with a place for us to lay low.”

“Here?”

Dameron nodded. “We could probably go back up now, but I don’t know how much luck we’d have. The night raid sent a strong message. It’d take even longer to recruit, because if it wasn’t something they suspected before, everyone knows for a fact now that we can’t protect them.”

That wasn’t Dameron’s fault. Protection was never a guarantee, especially not in an upstart Resistance cell. Ben didn’t say that, though. It’d be callous. As the leaders, Finn and Poe likely felt responsible.

“What’s your new plan?” he asked instead.

Dameron was visibly grateful for the redirect.

“Still working on that, but enough about us. Where the hell have you two been?”

Ben and Poe Dameron spent several hours in the kitchen, trading stories of the last year and a half. They took it in turns and listened raptly: Ben to tales of espionage and mainstreet shootouts; Poe to details of life in the galaxy at large. Their mutual hunger for details greased the conversation, and the rocky start to their meeting was soon forgotten. They refilled their glasses and relaxed, closing the minimal space between them as they probed one another for intel.

“I see you two are getting on,” Rey’s voice came from doorway an indeterminable amount of time later.

Both men turned to her, Dameron flashing a grin as he did.

“What’d you think, I’d bully him?” He waved dismissively and took a swig from his third glass. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Your man’s got good stories. Anyway, what’d you do with Finn?”

The man in question appeared a moment later. He peeked over Rey’s shoulder, taking in the scene. When he saw both men sitting close, heads bent and knees slotted together, a brief flicker crossed his face. It passed quickly, though, and a smirk as teasing as Rey’s tugged at his lips.

“Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

The four of them spent the rest of the night together, which went more pleasantly than Ben could’ve guessed. After clearing away the liquor, Poe fished out bowls for all of them and filled them near to sloshing with soup. They ate standing at the counters, Rey, Finn, and Poe chatting while Ben listening, enjoying the noise. It’d been too long since he shared space with so many. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

When they’d finished eating, they retired to the sitting room. Poe and Finn offered Rey and Ben the couch, falling into a pile of mismatched pillows themselves. They settled, leaning into one another amiably, which Rey took as clearance to do the same. Once Ben was comfortable, she shifted to lay across him, resting her head in the cradle of his lap. His hand came to rest on her side instinctively, petting along her flank before he considered-- but no, it was alright. Neither host looked offended. Surprised, maybe, but not unsettled. 

It was a peaceful night. They talked about missions and planets they’d visited. Rey spent nearly an hour describing Aleen’s Underworld, which melted into a discussion on strange plants and wildlife. It was friendly, almost, and homely. Words Ben could usually only apply to time spent in solitude with Rey. It was strange to feel an echo, however dim, of the feeling there: in the dilapidated apartment of former rivals. But they weren’t rivals anymore. They were something closer to allies, and wasn’t it funny, Ben thought, that they were all glad to be here?

After midnight the conversation started to die. Rey was drifting in Ben’s lap, lulled by his touch. He could feel her breathing slow, and on the blankets, her friend Finn wasn’t far behind. Encouraged by the open display on the couch, Finn had curled against Poe’s side some time ago. Over the course of the evening, he’d slowly slipped, and now he was breathing evenly with his head against Dameron’s belly. 

“We should probably get to sleep,” Poe said quietly. “I mean, you and me. These two-- lightweights, am I right?”

Ben smiled, and Dameron returned it.

“Stay here tonight,” he insisted. “You can get your own place in the morning.”

They spent another week on 2133. They rented a room in the inn Finn and Poe were stationed at, and spent most of their time with the men. They frequented each other’s rooms, shared meals and drinks, and even worked together. By the end of the week, the tension that marked their first meeting was all but gone. It couldn’t last, however. Ben knew that, and so did Rey. They were being hunted, and staying stationary wasn’t an option. They needed a ship.

_I thought you’d say that_ , Poe sighed when they brought it up. _There’s a yard in the western sector. Security’s a joke, and most of the ships are operational. One of them should be enough to get you to the next world._

Acting on the advice, the two packed their bags and prepared to take their leave. Before going to the shipyard, though, they stopped by the two men’s room. Rey couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

“We’ll find you again,” she promised, one arm tight around each of them. 

She was raised up on her toes, balancing against their chests. Finn and Poe’s arms were around her waist, squeezing her so tightly that her breath shuddered.

“Of course you will,” Finn said. “Or maybe we’ll find you.”

She laughed at that. “I don’t know. Ben’s good at picking backwater nowheres.”

“Whatever keeps you safe. Just don’t forget us.”

“We won’t,” Ben said. “Thank you, really.”

********************************************************

The following weeks passed in a flurry. Getting out of the Core proved more difficult this time. The ship they’d stolen on Coruscant apparently still had a tracker on it, and until they managed to swap it, they had to deal with firefights. 

The last of those played out in the space above Haidoral Prime, where they only just managed to gun down their pursuers. Leaking fuel and trying to ignore the blaring systems failure warnings, they brought it down and left it smoke in a field. It took a week of wandering on-world to reach a city and steal a replacement, which they checked over for tracking devices before taking off. From their, they kept to open space as long as possible, hoping to lose anyone that might still be following.

“I’m glad, you know,” Rey said one day several weeks later.

They were in the cockpit, staring out the window at the yawn of space. The blackness was starting to get old by then, and minutes before, they’d been discussing where to put down next. Ben suggested a few planets in the Outer Rim, and Rey, more daringly, said they should try their luck in the Unknown Regions. 

_We’d need to stop for a new ship and some supplies to be first, but it might be exciting to see how far we can get._

They were still debating the issue when Rey abruptly changed the subject. It took Ben several seconds to recover.

“Glad about what?”

“You asking me to come with you. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t.” She breathed in deeply before swiveling her chair to face him. “And I don’t want to know. I’d rather be with you.”

His throat constricted, and his chest throbbed with a dull ache. He reached across the console, taking her hand in his own. 

“Even when we’re being shot at?”

“Even then.” She paused, considering something that he could feel her juggling then weight of, then: “I love you, Ben.”

He made a weak, wounded sound, and his fingers tightened over hers. How long had he been hoping to hear that? A lifetime maybe. 

“I love you, too.”

She beamed, warm and sweet and genuine, and used his hold on her hand to tug him in. She cocked her head and slotted in for a kiss, pressing softly against his lower lip. He felt it tremble against her and she cooed, peppering his pout with affectionate little pecks that made his heart swell.

“So, where to next?” she asked, still close enough for her breath to tickle.

He let his eyes close and nuzzled her cheek.

“Wherever you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> TROS was a movie, amiright friends? Loved redeemed Ben and that kiss, though.


End file.
